


Irresistible Force/Immovable Object

by 7iris



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Multi, Sex Pollen, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-25
Updated: 2008-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-17 00:40:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/171033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7iris/pseuds/7iris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone on the tour jokes about it: <i>oh, Frank's in heat</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Everyone on the tour jokes about it: _oh, Frank's in heat_. He laughs along, and then drags Jamia into the back after shows. Then Jamia has to go back to Jersey for a family emergency, and it's not quite so funny anymore. Playing makes it worse. On stage the third night, Frank bites Gerard, licks Mikey, rubs up against Ray, and climbs on Bob's kit twice, despite the riser.

The crowd is electric that night, and maybe that's what does it, or maybe it's the full moon, or something in the air. Whatever it is, Frank comes off the stage craving sex. He jerks off in the venue bathroom, but it doesn't ease the restless burn under his skin. He leans against the stall door and decides, fuck it, he's getting drunk.

Alcohol doesn't help either. He's not sure how many shots he does, but he loses his shirt somewhere along the way and he can't stop touching people. He wants...he bounces a little on the balls of his feet and looks around for Bob. He only finds Gerard, but he takes the flying leap anyway.

Gerard goes down with a startled squawk. Frank wriggles against him and leans in. He's rational enough to know he doesn't want to kiss Gerard with a mouth that tastes like Jack and rum, and he dips his head at the last minute to bite his neck instead. It's close to what he wants, but not quite, and he makes a frustrated sound against Gerard's skin.

He can hear people laughing in the background, and then Lindsey says, "Bob! Come protect my husband's virtue!"

A few moments later, big, warm hands close on his waist, and Bob is pulling him off of Gerard.

Bob sets him on the ground, and Frank turns around and tries to jump on him. Bob is really fast when he wants to be, and Frank ends up upside down over Bob's shoulder. He takes advantage of the position and squeezes Bob's ass.

Bob lets out a startled huff of laughter and gives him a warning bounce. "How much have you had to drink?" he asks, and Frank says, "Dunno."

"Yeah, okay," Bob says, and turns around.

Frank's dick is rubbing up against Bob's shoulder with every step, and Frank squirms, trying for more pressure. Bob smacks his ass with an open hand, and it's like every nerve in Frank's body wakes up and says, _Yes, yes, that_.

"Quit it," Bob says mildly, and Frank is still, mostly out of surprise.

He's can't help it, though, he's moving again by the time they get back to the bus. He's starting to get dizzy from all the blood going to his head. He wants to rub his whole body up against Bob, but he doesn't want Bob to let him go, either.

The bus is dark and empty when they get back, and Bob carries him all the way into the back room. When Bob puts him down, Frank sways a little on his feet, but manages to reach out and close the door.

"Wait, don't--shit," Bob says. "You do remember that this door is broken and can't be opened from the inside, right? We're going to be stuck here until someone comes back."

Frank shrugs. He did actually remember that. He pulls Bob's head down and kisses him.

He gets a split second of pressure and sensation, lips and beard and metal, and then Bob is pushing him back and saying, "Whoa, hey, no."

He snarls just a little and tries to get closer. Bob just holds him off, turns him a bit and pulls something out of Frank's pocket. It's his phone.

"Call Jamia, have a shitload of phone sex, and go to bed, okay?"

He doesn't want phone sex, he wants _sex_ sex, and Bob is right fucking there, all implacable and shit. Frank takes the phone and throws it across the room.

Bob gives him a look.

For a second he wonders if Bob would hold him down if he hit him, and the thought of it makes him feel prickly hot. He throws a book across the room instead. Then he throws a shoe, and everything on the bed, and then anything else he can his hands on. He doesn't so much trash the room as move the piles of junk around a bit, and shit, Jamia is going to be so pissed that he let the room get this messy.

He ends up slumped over in the middle of the floor, breathing fast and harsh, that itchy _wantwantwant_ still crawling over him.

"Feeling better?" Bob asks.

"No," Frank says to his knees, and Bob nudges his arm.

"Call Jamia." When Frank looks, Bob is holding out his own Sidekick.

He takes it ungraciously and crawls up into the bed.

"Tell me your iPod is in here somewhere," Bob says.

"It's in the front," Frank lies, because he is horny and spiteful. _Wantwantwant_.

Bob rolls his eyes and locks himself in the back bathroom.

Frank curls up on his side in the bed, glaring at the door and listening to the phone ring.

Jamia says, "Bob?" when she answers, and she sounds concerned.

"It's me," Frank says, and his voice sounds cracked and ragged even to his own ears.

"What's wrong?"

He tells her. He's surrounded by her, her voice in his ear, her scent on the sheets, but she's not touching him, and he's stumbling over the words to say how this makes him feel.

"Okay, shhh, it's going to be okay," she says, and her voice has dropped into this low, smooth tone that he recognizes from years of touring. He rolls onto his back automatically, sliding his hand down over his belly. "What do you want?"

"I want--" He looks at the bathroom door, so thin you can have a conversation through it without raising your voice. He raises his anyway when he says, "I want Bob to fuck me."

Jamia sucks in a sharp breath. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He's got his jeans open now, his dick hot and slick in his hand. "But I want to suck his cock first. He's got a big cock, you know, I saw it. I mean, it was Warped, it was kind of unavoidable. But I wasn't exactly trying, either."

"Mm-hmmm," Jamia says with a laugh.

Frank licks his lips. "I wouldn't use a condom with him, I want to taste him. I want to go down on him so deep I choke on it. Wet and sloppy."

"Your hair's so long now," she says, and he picks up on it right away.

"Yeah, yeah, Bob keeps pushing it back behind my ears, holding it off my face, so you can see. So you can touch yourself while you watch."

She sighs against his ear.

"It's like a race. He can't fuck me until you come."

Frank hears a faint thunk from the bathroom, and he wonders, hopes, sudden and vivid, that Bob is jerking off listening to them. He strokes himself harder, picturing it, fantasy on top of fantasy.

"I'm not in any hurry, though," she says.

"No, you're taking your time just to tease him. When you do come, he's right up against the edge, and he pulls me off his cock, gets me on my hands and knees, and just pushes in. Bareback, no lube, just spit, because that's how I want it, I want to feel fucked, I want to feel it for days after. I want you to feel it when you look at me for days after."

"Yes, fuck, Frank," she says, low and rough, and gives this shuddery gasp he's had memorized for years.

He's right behind her, coming with a sob, and it's the worst orgasm he's ever had. There's no relief in it at all. He wants to fuck, wants skin and sweat and body-heat, wants someone else pressed up close against him.

They're both quiet for a moment, and he can hear this thin whine almost like pain in his own too-fast breath.

"Is Bob there?" Jamia asks finally.

"He already said no."

"Let me talk to him."

Frank tucks the phone against his chest and shouts, "Bob! Jamia wants to talk to you!"

There's a pause, and then the bathroom door opens. Bob's face is flushed and he's hard, but his pants are zipped up, and Frank sighs. He's scowling at Frank like he thinks it's a trick. Frank's sitting up, but he doesn't hold the phone out, so Bob has to step up to the edge of the bed to take it.

Frank hooks his fingers into the waistband of Bob's pants so he can't step back. Bob frowns harder at him, but just says, "Hey," into the phone.

Frank realizes Bob's hearing Jamia's voice with her post-orgasm huskiness and he shivers.

Bob's quiet for a long time, listening to what Jamia's saying. Frank watches his face but he can't tell what he's thinking.

Finally Bob says, "It may not be cheating, but it's still not okay." He cups Frank's head, running a thumb over his cheekbone and Frank leans into the touch. "He's not--" Bob stops, and drops his hand.

He's distantly aware of how he must look, flushed and breathless, pants open, dick out, come still smeared across his belly. He tries to look less desperate, more rational, but it probably doesn't work.

Bob snorts. "Ten minutes ago, he was sucking on Gerard's neck."

Frank bends forward and bites Bob's thigh. Bob jumps. "You weren't there," he explains, and Bob just looks dubious.

Bob drops his eyes and his cheeks get redder. "No," he says to Jamia, and it comes out reluctantly.

Frank really wants to know what she's saying.

"No," Bob says again, and this time it sounds firm, certain.

It's so unfair. Bob's obviously interested; if he would just...Frank rubs his hand over Bob's cock, and Bob jerks. He grabs Frank's hand and pulls it away from his crotch. Frank twists his hand until they're palm to palm and slides his fingers between Bob's. Bob blows out a breath, but doesn't let go of Frank's hand.

Bob gives a short, surprised laugh. "Yeah, okay," he says. "Likewise."

He holds the phone out to Frank, and Frank takes it. "So you're not going to fuck me through the mattress? Seriously, we can put Jamia on the speakerphone."

"Yeah, she suggested that already."

"He says no sex," Jamia says. "What else do you need?"

Frank rests his forehead on Bob for a moment and tries to think past the voice in his head saying _Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me_.

"This," he says finally.

"You want me to hold your hand?" Bob asks, and from anyone else it would sound sarcastic or joking, but Bob is calm and serious.

"Yeah. No, just--if you're not going to fuck me, then just hold me down."

Bob closes his eyes for a second, then opens them and nods.

Frank lets go of his hand and slides back up the bed. He grabs a pair of dirty boxers off the floor and wipes himself clean. Bob kicks off his shoes and crawls into bed after him, hovering a little awkwardly beside him.

"Could you, um--" Frank tugs at Bob's shirt. "I want--"

Bob hesitates, then strips to the waist. Frank turns away, dizzy, and lies down with his back to Bob. Bob curls up behind him, one arm around his waist and one slipping under his neck. His chest is pressed against Frank's back, and Frank pulls in a soundless breath at the contact.

Heat flashes over his skin and he can't help it, he grinds back against Bob, hard against his ass. He _wants_ \--

Bob grabs his hip and holds him still. "Don't," he says, and it comes out tight and unhappy, and that's what makes Frank stop himself. He catches Bob's wrist with his free hand, pulling it towards him, and bites down hard on his forearm. Bob flinches but doesn't pull away, and Frank concentrates on channeling one visceral urge into another.

"Frankie," Jamia says softly, and he realizes he still has the phone against his ear.

He makes a noise in his throat, and she starts talking, quiet and rambling, telling him about work and her family and the weather in Jersey. Bob is wrapped up tight around him and the bed smells like all three of them, and it's so close to what he wants, but still not quite right, and he thinks he'll never sleep with this fever under his skin.

He wakes up on his other side, curled into Bob's chest. Bob's arm is looped around him, and Bob is soft and still with sleep. Frank is still clutching his Sidekick, and when he looks at the screen, there's a new text message from Jamia.

It says _call me, bb_ so he does.

"Hey," she says, and she sounds like she always does, warm and easy.

He presses his forehead to Bob's chest. "Hey," he says softly, trying not to wake him up.

They're quiet for a moment, just listening to each other breathe. "Did we fuck this up?" he says finally.

"I don't know."

Bob's breathing changes, and Frank can feel him tense up. He lifts his head and smiles at him.

Bob has a tiny frown on his face. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good." He means it, and he hopes Bob can see it in his face.

"I have to go," Jamia says, and Frank leans up to kiss Bob, soft and sweet.

"Love you," he says into the phone, and he doesn't look away from Bob.


	2. The morning after

Frank leans up to kiss Bob, soft and sweet.

"Love you," he says into the phone, and he doesn't look away from Bob.

Bob closes his eyes just for a second, because he is so, so fucked.

Frank ends the call and Bob sits up. He fishes his shirt out from the mess on the floor and pulls it on, and makes it all the way to the door before he remembers.

"The door's still stuck."

"Yup," Frank says. Bob turns around. Frank is sitting in the middle of the bed, naked to the waist and still holding on to Bob's Sidekick. He's as quiet as Bob has ever seen him, and Bob can't read his expression.

"So...do you want to talk about last night?"

Bob snorts. "Not especially, no. Do you want to call someone to open the door?"

"Not especially, no."

On any other day, Bob would go over there and make Frank give him the phone back. Today, Bob is not really up for a platonic wrestling match, not when he can still hear Frank telling Jamia everything he wanted to do to Bob, when he can still hear Jamia whispering in his ear giving him permission, blessing, suggestions. Not when he can he still feel Frank's skin, fever-hot, pressed against him.

Bob sits down on the floor and lets his head thunk back against the door.

Frank looks at him for a long moment, then tosses him the phone. Bob, startled, catches it mostly out of reflex. He hesitates, and Frank says in a rush, "I'm sorry about last night."

Bob makes himself smile. "Nah, it's cool, you were—"

"No, I mean, I'm sorry I didn't have the balls to say something sooner, I'm sorry we asked you like this." Frank is tense all over, and he has that serious, intent expression he gets when he's talking about something really important. "But even if I wasn't, wasn't—"

"Sober?"

"Whatever. Jamia was, and she still said this was okay, so."

Bob blows out a breath and looks up at the ceiling. He wants to make a joke about Jamia having power of attorney over Frank's dick, but he doesn't think it will come out funny. And he really doesn't want to say what he was thinking last night, that he would have rather Jamia had just said no instead of acting like Bob fucking Frank wasn't a big deal. Like it wouldn't mean anything.

He is suddenly ready for this conversation to be over. He flips open the Sidekick and Frank scrambles out of the bed and into Bob's lap. Bob steadies him automatically.

"Listen, listen, I don't—I still want this, Jamia still wants this," Frank says. "It was a shitty way to ask, but the question still stands. I don't want to pretend this never happened." Frank glances away for a second. "Unless you don't want this. Us."

"Shut up," Bob says, and his hand tightens on Frank's hip. Something like hope jumps in Frank's eyes.

"I swear, we wouldn't ask if it wasn't important to us."

"Jamia—"

"Gets back in two days."

Bob can feel himself wavering. "How do you know that this is going to work out? That we won't fuck this up?"

Frank shrugs. "I don't. But sometimes you just gotta take that leap of faith and trust that the universe won't kick you in the balls."

Bob thinks about that phone call in the middle of tour, about the shitty van that picked him up at the airport in Jersey.

Frank can tell the second he gives in, because his face lights up and he laughs. This time, when he leans up to kiss Bob, Bob kisses him back.


End file.
